Five Stars
by RedSavant
Summary: From the mundane to the spectacular, events aboard the PCV Normandy SR-2 are guaranteed never to be dull. Changed the title because I can't be bugg'd to write 100 of these. Warnings inside.


**Well, **_**Bridges **_**isn't coming along as easily as it was in the beginning, so here are some drabbles/ficlets instead. Though they're based on fanfic100's table of prompts, I have NOT laid a claim and I likely will not, since I want to use all or most of the characters and claiming all of them would be a dick move. **

**These will ALL be set in my personal continuity unless otherwise stated. Go read **_**Bridges**_** if you care to; it'll give you a leg up on my Shep, Alexandra.**

**Warnings: Spoilers for the entire game, profanity, lesbian attraction if you want to see it.**

* * *

**Chapter 1: Beginnings, Middles, Ends, Insides, Outsides.**

**01. Beginnings**

He told me it was the reason I was chosen. I wanted to tell him that I didn't want it to be.

I wanted to tell him that I barely wanted to remember that chapter of my life, that I was sick of being told I should feel guilty when I already did; I wanted to say that I was equally sick of phrases like 'you did what you had to do' and 'if there had been another way', because I hadn't, and there hadn't.

I wanted to ask him if he knew what we had seen, when we went in; cages, sapient beings in cages, mired in their own filth. I wanted to ask him if he knew what we had done, the blood running murky-gray-green down the twisted warrens and tunnels, penetrating to the heart of the frigid little rock. I wanted to ask him if he knew what I had felt.

I wanted to ask him if he had ever shot a man in the head, close enough to spatter his face with hot blood, close enough to meet the lower pair of eyes with his own, and felt nothing but joy. I wanted to ask him if he had ever killed with his bare hands with a fully loaded pistol at his side, to feel the end of life and revel in it. I wanted to ask him if he had ever feared himself.

I wanted to ask, but I said nothing, and in the silence my questions were answered. He knew without my saying that I was not seeking atonement, that what I had done neither deserved nor demanded redemption; and I knew without his saying that he would offer none, and require none. He knew what it was to question oneself; and while he could offer no answers on that front, I knew without his saying that he trusted me to find my own, and come out stronger for it. It was… a nice feeling.

Exactly a month after that meeting, I first set foot aboard the SSV _Normandy_.

* * *

**02. Middles**

"So…?"

Rosa Goldstein looked up from her extranet pad as Hawthorne spoke. "So what, Thom?" she asked. Across the table, her fellow ex-Cerberus operative shrugged, raising his coffee mug to take a contemplative sip.

"So, what do you think of Tali'Zorah?" he asked patiently, stealing a glance over at the mess counter. The young quarian nodded politely to Sergeant Gardner as he served her from the smaller pot she shared with Garrus. Rosa shrugged, letting her eyes drop back to the slowly scrolling news feed.

"She's nice," she replied. "Damn smart, even by quarian standards. Gabby Daniels never stops singing her praises, and I heard from Garrus that she crawled through those ducts in the Collector base –"

"No, no, what do you think of _her_?" Thom interrupted, leaning on the last word. "I mean, her enviro-suit's practically form-fitting…"

Rosa rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, Thom…"

Hawthorne managed to make drinking coffee look defensive. "What? I can't think she's sexy just because she's a quarian?" Rosa arched an eyebrow at him, and he settled back to eating his breakfast, grumbling.

"I'll bring the tray back when I'm done, Sergeant," Tali called over her shoulder. She rounded the ship's central column, and a moment later the quiet whoosh of the elevator doors closing announced her departure. A few minutes passed in silence.

"…She does have amazing hips," Rosa admitted grudgingly.

"I knew you'd come around."

"Shut up, Thom."

* * *

**03. Ends**

"Shepard. You're making a habit of costing me more than time and money." The Illusive Man was a shape of darkness against the blue brilliance of the star behind him, and his disturbing eyes speared across the countless lightyears between them. Even after facing down charging krogan, geth Colossi, and – just in case she forgot – the unholy fusion of human and Reaper lurking beyond the Omega 4 Relay, Alexandra Shepard had to fight the urge to take a step back. She crossed her arms instead, disguising the motion with a shift of weight. The ruse didn't appear to fool her addresser, however; the red light from the end of his gently smoking cigarette highlighted the lines of his face as his lips pulled into a tight not-smile.

"I went through that relay to do a job," Alex replied coolly. "I did it. What Cerberus – and you – wanted was always secondary. I never made that a secret."

"I didn't say that it was a surprise, Shepard." The Illusive Man took a drag on his cigarette, pausing a moment before exhaling. The smoke spread in a widening cloud, and he laid the butt aside. "But I expected better from you. The Collectors' technology could have ensured humanity's dominance against the Reapers and beyond."

"Meaning against the Council races." Shepard shook her head disbelievingly. "The Reapers aren't even a concern for you, are they? You're more interested in ruling the galaxy, even if it's only until they get here from dark space."

"Making baseless accusations reflects badly on you, Shepard," the Illusive Man sighed. "Don't presume to think that you know my intentions." He took a sip of the faintly gold liquid in his glass. "Your destruction of the base represents a disappointing lost opportunity, true, but you still did well in destroying the Collectors. Instruct Mr. Moreau to plot a course to Minuteman Station. I'll contact you again when you arrive, and we'll discuss your next step."

"No."

The Illusive Man paused, his hand halfway to the link control on his armrest. Alex stepped forward, wincing only slightly as the energy burn on her left leg flared. "I've never taken orders from you, and I never will. If you want to help me stop the Reapers, feel free to fall in line – but _I_ call the shots from now on."

"You know better than that, Shepard," the Illusive Man replied shortly. "You don't want to walk this path with me. I brought you back from the dead for a single purpose, and I won't see it jeopardized by your foolish idealism."

"Then I guess this is where we part ways," Alex replied. She turned on her heel, striding out of the holofield.

The Illusive Man rose from his chair. "Shepard –"

"Lose this channel, Joker," Alex spat over her shoulder. The briefing room rematerialized around her, and she leaned back against the diagnostics station, releasing a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

Joker chuckled over the intercom. "Brings back memories of the Council, eh, Commander?"

Alex laughed despite herself. "Sure does, Joker. Sure does." She stood up, walking to the door. "Call the crew together in the hangar. Something tells me they'll want to hear this."

"Some of us already have." The briefing room door slid open, and Miranda gave Alex a little wave. Alex blinked.

"You seem pretty calm for someone who just got fired," she hazarded. Miranda's mouth tightened momentarily, and she joined Shepard as the Commander continued out onto the CIC.

"I joined Cerberus because I believed that humanity deserved a place in the galaxy without bowing and scraping to aliens," the officer replied tightly. "It's a laudable goal, and I still believe in it. But I don't think liquefying colonists is the way to achieve that. I've already tendered my resignation."

"I'm glad you feel that way, Miranda," Alex said. She patted the other woman on the shoulder, keying the elevator. "Come on. Let's go spread the good news."

Miranda smiled. "Right with you, Commander."

* * *

**04. Insides**

"You're so full of it, man," Dave Hadley laughed, prodding John Matthews in the chest with the handle of his fork.

"I swear to God it's true," the junior weapons engineer insisted, fending off the utensil with a hand. "Beat it to death with my bare hands."

"You beat a varren to death," Garrus deadpanned, taking a bite of his dinner. "Impressive, considering their three-inch-thick armor plating."

"I didn't say it was easy," Matthews replied, shrugging in a what-are-you-going-to-do way.

Alex laughed into her coffee. "Was this before or after you arm-wrestled the krogan into submission?"

"After," the crewman said. He laughed, shaking his head. "You know, Commander, it's really something, you coming to eat with us like this. Most of the specialists don't, aside from a few." He nodded to Garrus. "I understand they're not big fans of Cerberus, but it's not like Hadley is the Illusive Man. They could stand to come by every now and then. We're all on the same crew here."

Alex drew breath to reply, but a meaty hand thumped onto her shoulder, cutting her off. She turned in her chair to face Grunt, who was scrutinizing a datapad.

"What's up, Grunt?" she asked. The tank-bred krogan made a contemplative sound deep in his throat, and answered without looking up.

"Shepard. How soon can we kill, say, fifty turians?" he asked.

Alex blinked. "Uh – Why do you ask?"

"Grunt asked me to calculate how much blood would be required to paint the port cargo hold," EDI replied calmly, over the speakers recessed into the ceiling. "Fifty adult male turians would provide quite a sufficient amount."

"Oh, that's just wrong," Garrus muttered.

"I like the color," Grunt replied, grinning toothily at him.

Alex sighed. "We're not going to paint the hold with blood of any kind. EDI, I know you're supposed to help the crew, but stop providing estimates, please."

Grunt snorted. "Fine." He stamped back to the elevator, tapping buttons on the datapad as he went.

"Are you still going to complain about the specialists not eating with us?" Nadia Patel asked, leaning across the table to look at Matthews.

"No… no, I think I'm good," he replied.

* * *

**05. Outsides**

The _Normandy_ SR-2 had not been designed with military statutes in mind. The Cerberus engineers and shipwrights assigned to the Lazarus Cell had, in fact, actively worked to improve upon the creature comforts of the original _Normandy_, from overhauling the elevator motor to installing the leather seats Joker had been so enthusiastic about. Still, with increased comfort came increased size, and while EDI handled many of the SR-2's passive functions, the ex-Cerberus frigate still boasted a crew of about forty. The three showerheads in each bathroom simply could not handle the traffic, and as a result most of the crewmembers had taken to showering at eclectic times. A sort of rough schedule had worked itself out, and it was possible – if one was clever – to steal a shower with no one else in the room.

"About fucking time," Jack muttered, throwing her bundled clothes aside as she stepped into the alcove. For the past few hours, every time she had tried to sneak up here there had been some Cerberus bitch or another already showering. Whether Shepard had cut ties with 'Tim' or not, knowing they had been involved with the corporation made her blood boil, and there was really no way to shower in the same room with them without getting into a fight. She hoped Shepard appreciated her restraint, because Jack was sure as hell wondering why she was bothering.

She let the hot water pour over her, feeling it tickle through the stubble on her scalp. Time to shave again, but she'd forgotten her razor. "Fuck it." She gestured, lighting the alcove blue for a moment, and her bottle of soap – lifted from a store on the Citadel, natch – flew into her hand. She uncapped it –

"Oh, sorry. I didn't think anyone else would be up this late."

Jack let her head thump against the wall of the shower, perhaps a little harder than it had to. If there was a God, this was why she didn't believe in him – because he was an utter asshole.

"If you're not done, I can leave," Yeoman Kelly Chambers offered hesitantly. Jack knew without looking that she had brought her own towel, and it was probably pink. Fuck it _all_.

"No, come in," she growled. Kelly took a hovery sort-of step forward, and Jack closed her eyes in exasperation. "Get the fuck in here so the fucking door closes!" she barked. The yeoman scooted inside, and the door to the outside hallway whirred shut behind her.

"Look, it's late and I'm almost done here. So just keep your mouth shut and we'll get along fine," Jack sighed. Her body was still sore from the assault on the Collectors, she had a major headache – which headbutting the wall hadn't helped – and she really _was_ trying to be nice. As long as Yeoman Bridge Bunny stayed quiet…

"Oh, wow. I've never seen all of your tattoos before," Kelly breathed, sounding almost… awestruck.

Jack felt her biotics flare, and quashed them with a will. "That's because I don't walk around naked," she snapped. "Did you even hear what I said?"

"Jack, I understand your hostility," the yeoman replied quietly. "But none of us did those things to you. Not even Operative Lawson thinks –"

"Like hell she doesn't," Jack spat. She felt her hands ball into fists, the stiff muscles creaking as her fingers bent, clawlike.

"You know she resigned, don't you?" Kelly asked, after a moment. "She told the Illusive Man to his face that she wouldn't follow his orders anymore. That she was with the Commander – with all of us – now." She took a breath. "We're a crew, Jack. That means we have to trust each other, even if we don't want to at first."

Jack's lips tightened. "I've heard that shit before. 'We're a family, Jack, we'll take care of you.'" She ran a hand over her shaved scalp. "Yeah. What the fuck ever."

"Jack, please. I know you don't like me very much –" Jack snorted – "but I really am interested in getting to know you better," Kelly said. "We all are. And I know, however much you pretend not to, you want to be a part of this crew too."

The noise of the running water had covered the sound of the yeoman's footsteps, and Kelly's next words came from a few feet away. "Do you… can I ask you about your tattoos?" the young woman asked. "They look like important memories to you," she continued. "What's this one for?" She reached out, letting her fingertips brush across an intricate gold-and-white design across Jack's lower back.

"Don't you fucking touch me!" Jack snarled, eyes flaring into white light as she spun around. Kelly flew across the room, slamming against the wall. Water droplets spattered the walls as the biotic sphere around Jack grew, and the few that escaped the showerhead hung suspended, glowing blue-purple with biotic energy. "I have put up with enough shit from you," she said, stepping out of the shower. "You seriously think that's all it's gonna take? Cerberus tortures me for eight fucking years and you think getting touchy-feely is going to just make it all go away? Grow the fuck up. It doesn't work that way."

"I –" Kelly began. "I just wanted to –"

"Just shut the fuck up," Jack muttered, snatching up her clothing. She wrapped Kelly's towel around herself and stalked from the room, dropping the yeoman to the floor. The water drops that had hung in the air fell in a miniature rainstorm, soaking the textured linoleum and streaking down the walls.

The door hissed closed.

* * *

"Kelly. Hey, Kelly."

Kelly blinked, looking over toward the dais over the Galaxy Map. Commander Shepard was leaning on the railing, looking a little concernedly down at her. "I'm sorry, Commander," she replied, blinking. "I was just thinking."

"That puts you above some of the crew," Shepard muttered, casting a dark look back toward the elevator. She straightened up. "You've been looking a little tired these past few days. Are you feeling alright?"

"Yes, Commander, I'm fine," Kelly said. Shepard shook her head, not buying it.

"Go on back to your quarters, Kelly. That's an order," she said, smiling. "I'll hold down the CIC for now."

"If you want, Commander," Kelly replied doubtfully. The Commander nodded encouragingly, and Kelly walked over to the elevator. She keyed the console, and after a moment the doors slid smoothly open.

Jack stood in the back of the elevator, leaning casually against the wall. Kelly opened her mouth, and Jack stepped forward, cutting her off. "It was for a drell I killed on the Citadel. Happy?" She raised an eyebrow, challenging the yeoman to say anything.

After a moment, unsure of what else to do, Kelly nodded. She took a step toward the elevator, and Jack raised a hand. "We're not friends," she warned the yeoman, and punched the console on the wall. The doors slid closed again, and the quiet hum of the elevator's winches started up.

Bemused, Kelly turned back to the Commander, who shrugged. "It's a start."

"Yeah, I guess it is," Kelly said quietly. She smiled.

* * *

**If my word count keeps up, this'll be one of the longest projects I've ever undertaken... anyway. Notes on individual entries, if you're interested:**

**Beginnings: This is a reflection from the point of view of Alexandra Shepard on the events of Torfan and her recruitment by Captain Anderson. A very, very drunk reflection.**

**Middles: Admit it, she does. I also loved the opportunity to flesh out some of the ex-Cerberus crew on the SR-2.**

**Ends: The Illusive Man with Reaper tech is only slightly less terrifying than Reapers with Reaper tech. And I couldn't **_**not **_**put in 'Lose this channel'.**

**Insides: This would work better as a comic, I imagine, but I can't draw, so here we go.**

**Outsides: This one took a lot more space than I thought it would, but I think it came out well. Jack's relationship with the rest of the crew is an interesting one, and I think that she does want to fit in eventually. Just not as seamlessly as Kelly wants her to.**

**Check out the table at fanfic_100's livejournal to get an idea of what's coming next, and be sure to take the time to review!**


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